St. Nick's Angels

Merrie Monday, mortals! My Yuletide Adventure continues apace—I visited my first alternate world, & recruited allies to help me restore thine own Santa’s faith in mortal-kind!

Need to catch up? Read all of this year’s Yuletide Adventure, or revisit last year’s, right here!

“…And Be Merry.”
Part II: The Gathering

After spending Saturday evening browsing the fabled Christmas Catalogue of Worlds, I selected a few promising candidates, & set about transporting myself through the Santaverse. My first selection was a world where humans ne’er rose—Elves, instead, dominate the place they call “Ærlinn,” “the Holy Song.”

Strangely, much of Ærlinn’s history mirrors thine Earth’s, including the development of Christmas. Santa still lives at the top of the world, though here he fully indeed is a “jolly old Elf.”

Around A.D. 1100, unlike on thine Earth, a band of green Moon-men swarmed down from the skies, wreaking bloody havoc. The Moon-men claimed the world was, in fact, their true home, & the Elves were the invaders. None live now who could say for certain—though rumors persist of forbidden caves, where ancient bones may reveal inconvenient truths.

The war raged for over 300 bloody years. Near the end of the Moon-War, the Elves & Moon-men both sought desperately to end the conflict, & each turned to terrible evils. The Moon-men’s powerful sages, the Warspeakers, concocted a grand working that could move the very heavens. & the Elves turned to the Shadowed Powers, the dark gods whom they had shunned for two millennia. They begged for aid, & promised to pay any cost.

On December 25th, A.D. 1453, both plans came to fruition, in one horrifying harvest. The Warspeakers of the Moon completed their ritual; ripping the souls from the bodies of all within 500 leagues, they knocked Ærlinn from its normal orbit, shifting it away from the light of the Sun. Since then, the days stretch longer, & Summer comes rarely. Some call it “Fimbulwinter,” & believe they live in a world that already is ended.

At the same time, the Shadowed Powers granted the Elves their wish, in a twisted & cruel fashion. They sought to become “tireless warriors, indefatigable & undefeatable.” As the impact of the Warspeakers’ horrid spell became known, the Elves grew impatient & anxious, waiting for some sign the Shadowed Powers had delivered on their bargain. Hours passed; news of the horrifying fatalities from the Warspeakers’ magicks began to spread, & the Elves organized rescue missions. They found dead village after dead village…but they began to find survivors. Crazed, & speechless, the survivors attacked any who approached, & no weapon could fell them.

The Shadowed Powers had turned the soulless husks of the Warspeakers’ victims into invincible warriors, who knew neither pain nor fear; Moon-men’s corpses, too, found themselves conscripted into what became known as the “Shadowed Legions.” As the world’s new orbit wreaked environmental havoc, & the Shadowed Legions began spreading out across the lands, & civilization swiftly collapsed. Some Moon-men remained stranded, retreating to their fortified star-boats & living castled within. The Elves who survived, spread to the high mountains, living like nomads to stay ahead of the Legions.

Their Santa Claus watched all this, despondent, from the North Pole, sitting in silence for a full century—the Christmasless Hundred, ‘tis called—’til, one of his Elves appeared in the Workshop, wielding a gleaming bow with a candy-striped arrow. A weapon, she swore, which could lay the Legions low, using Christmas magick & ensorcelled candy.

Roused from his doldrums, Santa ordered a resumption of full production. Deliveries would resume—to all boys & girls, nice or not, of the miracle weapons. But the Elves protested that Claus—a soft Elf of peace—must not risk his sleigh-ride, lest the Shadowed Legions destroy him & with it, Ærlinn’s one hope for a livable future. Instead, three brave Elves volunteered to make the journey in his stead, & teach the world how to use their new toys.

Dweascere, spear-maiden, stepped forth. With her stood Hleapere, nimble-footed. & with them the Elf who developed the first candy-bow, Hrotholfa. Santa bowed low, accepting nobly their offer, & asked, “Hrotholfa, with your bow so bright, won’t you guide my sleigh tonight?”

The Workshop erupted in cheers, & the trio set out around Ærlinn. Santa called them his Messengers, but to the children they came to be known as “St. Nick’s Angels.” He accompanies them on their adventures, remotely, via the safety of a Claus-bubble, as they work to make Ærlinn safe from the sins of its past. Someday, the orbital distortions of the Warspeakers may render the world totally frozen—but ‘til then, Christmas still comes each year.

I find the Angels mid-battle, with a small cadre of the Shadowed Legions; we dispatch the monsters with candied ease. I explain my situation, & the sorry state of my own world’s Santa Claus. They agree, thankfully, to journey back there with me, & try to rouse his spirits, just as the Angels had raised the spirits of Ærlinn’s Santa.

HUZZAH! One world down, onto the next…

“…And Be Merry.” shall continue on Wednesday!

Thank ye for reading, mortals! & thank ye extra-much to the generous mortals who can & do support our works here with coin!

I hope ye enjoyed this installment! Finally, a lucky break! Hopefully, the momentum continues…I shall write ye Wednesday with news of this week’s episode, & my next world-visit in the Yuletide Adventure. ‘Til then—be safe, be well, & remember, ne’er trust the Shadowed Powers, they be shadowed for a reason.

Cheers,
Amœnus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Elfwynn